


Flying High

by blondsak, seekrest



Series: CH3CH2CI [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (not like Tony cares), (the man has a heart condition!), Bruce Banner Is Not That Kind Of Doctor, Clue solution: it was Flash with the discus in the grass field, Ethyl Chloride: Easy Level, Fluff and Humor, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Panicked Tony Stark, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Smitten Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, accidental poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: “I think Coach Wilson is ready to get started.”Peter glances over to the man who, contrary to what Ned said looked bored out of his mind. Peter wonders if Michelle was going to watch him during tryouts - only to wonder if that would be worse, considering his inability to focus when she was around.He sneaks a glance towards her, only to see her eyes widen - his senses screaming at him a second too late as he hears someone call out, “Watch out!”Peter doesn’t even get a chance to see what he should watch out for when everything around him turns to black.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: CH3CH2CI [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921798
Comments: 162
Kudos: 878
Collections: ellie marvel fics - read





	Flying High

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whumphoarder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumphoarder/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Whumphoarder!!!! We adore you and your fics and we hope you have the best day <3<3<3

_This is a bad idea_ , Peter thinks as he stretches his legs, the chatter of kids around him on the track field serving as background noise as he thinks of May’s encouragement earlier that day.

“Try your best,” she’d said with a smile, kissing him on the forehead as he laughed.

“I don’t think _that_ would work,” he’d replied, May casting him a knowing glance as she said, “Well, try what _Peter Parker_ ’s should be. Not Spider-Man.” 

He smiles at the memory, bringing his fingers down to his toes. Hiding Spider-Man from her had been a terrible decision all around, a wave of shame at how livid she’d been when she found him in his room in the suit. 

Peter knows her anger was justified, not only for lying and being shut out of such a massive part of his life but for putting himself at risk when Ben had died not even a year ago. Peter could still vividly remember the fear in her eyes when Peter told her the truth - _all_ of it - his conscience getting the better of him for withholding it from her for so long.

He couldn’t stop being Spider-Man, something that May seemed to reconcile with herself only so much as she knew Peter. It was a tentative agreement towards the end of that long conversation - and the many that had happened since. 

That didn’t stop her from setting up some ground rules - to both Peter and to Mr. Stark, Peter laughing to himself at the memory of when May laid into the man not only for taking Peter overseas without her permission but then proceeded to ghost him as he ran around New York on his own. 

When she put it that way, Peter could understand how upset she was - even if he was glad that at the end of the day, his life hadn’t changed all that much.

He was still allowed to be Spider-Man, still allowed to patrol and most surprisingly still allowed to be around Mr. Stark - a part of Peter wishing he’d actually listened in on their conversation rather than let his guilt at the time help him block it out. 

The only difference was _this_ , Peter twisting his arms around in an exaggerated stretching motion as he sees Ned walk towards him.

“Hey man, you ready?” he asks, Peter shrugging as he glances over to Coach Wilson.

One of May’s ground rules included being more involved in _normal_ school activities, arguing that dropping out of all his extracurriculars might’ve been good for Spider-Man but was terrible for Peter Parker - a no-nonsense look on her face as she “encouraged” him to find something that he could do.

It was too late for him to rejoin band and Peter didn’t care to sit around inside for a few hours in robotics or AV club - not now, when he actually got the chance to play around with Mr. Stark’s tech in his lab once a week. 

Before Peter has a chance to answer Ned, a group of people pass by from the locker rooms, Peter’s heart skipping a beat when he sees who’s among them.

“Sup losers,” Michelle says with a smirk, eyeing Peter up and down as she asks, “What are you doing here?”

“Peter’s trying out for track,” Ned says with a smile, Peter whirling around to give him a look before turning back to Michelle. He can see the vaguely curious expression on her face, only for it to turn back to boredom. She raises an eyebrow before saying, “Didn’t know you were into track, Parker.”

“Yeah, I--uh, I was just--”

“I didn’t know _you_ were in track, MJ,” Ned says with a smirk, his eyes widening as he seems to connect the dots for why Peter had chosen track as an after school activity. “I thought you hated gym.”

“I do,” she deadpans, Peter watching with rapt attention as she pushes a curl behind her ear. “Track isn’t graded. It’s for college.”

“That’s really smart,” Peter says, clearing his throat as Michelle just stares at him. “You know. To expand your resume. For college, I mean. Not resume, that’d be weird.”

“Yeah. Weird,” Michelle says, staring at him in a way that makes Peter’s stomach do a flip flop.

“MJ!” 

The three of them turn, Peter looking over to where Cindy was waving Michelle over, turning back to her as she says, “I better go.”

“Yeah. Yeah for sure, um--”

“Good luck,” Michelle says, almost looking _awkward_ for a beat before schooling her features, turning away before Peter can say a word.

“Yeah, I… thanks,” he says wistfully, watching her walk towards the group.

Peter doesn’t even seem to realize he’s still staring until he hears Ned’s whispered, “ _Dude_.”

He turns to see Ned’s smug look on his face, Peter immediately going to say, “Ned…”

“MJ? You’re joining track cause of _MJ_?” He whispered, looking simultaneously confused and excited for reasons Peter doesn’t even dare to think about it as he whispers back, “Don’t say that so loud.”

Ned just snickers, Peter sneaking a glance back to Michelle only to see that she’s staring right at him - Peter feeling his cheeks flush as he turns back to Ned.

His crush on her was a new development, one that completely took him by surprise. Peter had told himself he was done with relationships after Liz and his homecoming date from hell. 

But Michelle becoming AcaDec captain had changed something between them, Peter paying more attention to the voicemails she left him and realizing with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that she was actually trying to help him out. He’d ignored her calls and her texts for months, so focused on Spider-Man and on Liz that going through and listening to the messages she left him made him realize that her prickly demeanor to him wasn’t because she hated him, but likely because she was _hurt_ that he kept ignoring her. 

Peter apologized for being such a flake, in so many words, something that at the time Michelle had casually dismissed. But then she’d started to sit at his and Ned’s table more at lunch, Peter taking notice of the books that she read and asking her questions about them.

It was fascinating, watching her shift from cool and distant into someone a bit more animated, telling him about the murder mystery podcast that gave her book recommendations. The more he was around her, the more Peter wanted to see that side of her - looking for any way that he could.

When May had mentioned joining an after-school activity, track was the first thing that came to mind - in no small part because he knew Michelle was a member of the team.

“Dude, really? Again?” Ned says with a smile. “You’ve got to start thinking with your head and not your--”

“Ned, can we just-- can we not, right now?” Peter says with a grimace, Ned looking over the moon as he says, “Okay, okay. Come on. I think Coach Wilson is ready to get started.”

Peter glances over to the man who - contrary to what Ned said - looked bored out of his mind. But now was as good of a time as any to get this over with, a secret part of Peter hoping that Michelle would watch him during tryouts - only to wonder if that would be _worse_ , considering his inability to focus when she was around. 

This was proven not even five seconds later, Peter sneaking a glance towards Michelle once more only to see her eyes widen, his senses screaming at him a second too late as he hears someone call out, “Watch out!”

Peter doesn’t even get a chance to see what he should watch out for, everything around him turning to black.

* * *

When Peter comes to, the first thing he thinks is _ow_. 

The second thing he thinks as soon as he opens his eyes is _wow._

He sees Ned to his right, a frantic and terrified look on his face - his mouth moving but Peter not quite registering the words. All Peter can really focus on is Michelle, her eyes wide and her mouth pinched. A few of the curls from her ponytail had come loose, framing her features as she hovered over Peter’s face, her own mouth moving.

Peter had been knocked in the head enough to recognize that he probably had a concussion, but all he can think of is how pretty she looks in this light. 

There’s a ringing in his ears as he blinks, entirely too distracted by Michelle’s lips moving just a few feet above him until she lifts her head, looking a bit more furious as she talks to someone else. 

Peter goes to sit up, only for Ned’s hands to brace against him, sluggishly blinking at him as the sounds around him start to become more clear.

“Hey whoa, hold it Parker,” he hears Coach Wilson say, “don’t get up too fast.”

“Were you trying to kill him?” he hears Michelle snap, looking up at her and hearing Flash’s distinctive voice call out.

“NO! No, I wasn’t-- it was an accident, I swear!”

“Thompson, go to the Principal’s office,” he hears an assistant coach say, Flash’s voice still pleading as Coach Wilson, Ned and Michelle help Peter up.

“I _promise_ I wasn’t trying to kill him. I’m not-- I would never--”

Peter’s hearing starts to feel jumbled from the change of gravity, leaning hard on Ned as he glances around and asks, “What happened?”

“Got clocked with a discus, dorkwad,” Michelle says, her words sharp but her tone not. Peter looks over at her and sees the fear in her eyes, Coach Wilson’s strong hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Parker. Let’s get you to the nurse.”

“No I’m-- I’m fine, I--” Peter says, the nurse being someone he knows he shouldn’t see. He hadn’t gotten sick since he’d come back from Oscorp, learning through experience that he had super healing that would take care of anything. 

“You’re not fine, you’re _bleeding_ ,” Michelle says, pointing towards his legs. Peter follows her line of sight, his head feeling a little foggy as he sees how roughed up they are - a memory of how bad his legs had been as he’d skidded across the beach during homecoming.

“I’m fine. I’ll--”

“Just go to the nurse, Parker,” Coach Wilson orders, Ned staying suspiciously silent as Peter looks to him.

Peter doesn’t have it in him to argue, feeling a little disoriented as he just nods - immediately regretting the action as Ned leads him towards the main building.

“Dude, are you okay? Do you _need_ the nurse? How’d you miss that?” Ned whispers as soon as they’re out of earshot, Peter limping more for the benefit of everyone watching them - feeling more and more aware the longer they walk towards the building.

Peter has half a mind to duck out and leave but then he sees Coach Wilson out of the corner of his eye, knowing it was better to just fake it for the nurse’s sake then try and explain him recovering from a hit that to them seemed serious. 

He looks back in Michelle’s direction once more, his cheeks warming when he sees her still staring at him, an unreadable expression on her face. 

He turns back to Ned, who is sheepishly smiling as he says, “No reason.” 

* * *

Tony’s in the tower lab with Bruce, going over possible upgrades for the Hulkbuster when his phone rings.

“Huh, Pepper’s flight must have landed a few hours early,” he says as he goes to grab it-- only for his brow to furrow when he sees May Parker’s name instead, frowning slightly as he picks it up.

“Whatever he did, I had nothing to do with it,” he says by way of greeting, hearing a huff on the other end.

“I should hope not, unless you were trying out for the Midtown track team this afternoon,” May replies dryly, “though I’m a little concerned that your first instinct when I call is to deny any knowledge or involvement in Peter’s various shenanigans.”

“You’d be scared of you too, if you were me,” Tony says honestly, shuddering at the memory of four months earlier when May had first found out about Peter being Spider-Man and - something she found even more reprehensible - Tony’s involvement in keeping it from her. But he pushes that aside for now, smiling as he asks, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your call, May?”

“Midtown’s nurse just phoned. Peter somehow managed to get knocked out by a thrown discus. How, I have no idea. I thought he had some sort of-- tingle thing, but here we are.”

“What the-- is he alright?” Tony asks in concern, barely registering the way Bruce glances up from his work.

“Apparently just a small concussion and a nasty scrape on his knee. But the school nurse says he’s only a little disoriented-- no signs of anything serious.”

“Are you sure? The kid likes to downplay injuries but head wounds are really no--”

“The nurse knows what she’s doing, Tony,” May interjects patiently, Tony’s mouth falling shut as he nods along. May was a nurse too-- if she wasn’t concerned, then he had no reason to be.

Well, probably no reason. This was Peter they were talking about, after all.

“The reason I’m calling,” May continues, “is that he needs a ride home, and I’m on shift until midnight. Could you send Happy to go get him and take him home for me?”

“Happy’s on a much-needed vacation to Costa Rica this week,” Tony says, “but don’t worry, I can go grab him.”

“You really don’t mind? I don’t want to--”

“It’s truly no bother,” Tony reassures her. “Part of the whole new and improved mentor gig, right?”

May barks out a laugh, but Tony can hear a hint of fond amusement there. “Alright. Thanks for doing this, Tony.”

“No problem, May,” he says, and he means it. “I’ll text you when he’s safely at home.”

He hangs up, before turning to Bruce who is still looking up at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Peter’s noggin collided with a discus at his tryouts,” he explains, picking up his jacket. “He needs someone to drive him home, make sure he doesn’t take a nosedive onto a subway track.”

If anything, Bruce’s eyebrows disappear even farther into his unruly hair. “Peter? Peter as in, Peter Parker? As in Peter Parker, alias Spider-Man, who can dodge bullets before the trigger is even pulled? _That_ Peter?”

“That’s the one,” Tony says. “God knows what distracted him. Must have been something pretty serious though, for him to miss a projectile coming his way at the frankly embarrassing speed of fifty feet per second.”

Bruce shakes his head. “First time for everything, I suppose. Well, I’ll be here when you get back. Thoughts on dinner?”

“How about that Indian place you like? The one that’s over near second and 45th,” Tony says, already heading for the lab exit closest to the elevator that goes down to the car garage. “I’ll have FRI put in the order now. Delivery or takeout?”

“Takeout. I could stand to stretch my legs,” he hears Bruce say behind him, Tony throwing up a handwave in acknowledgement right before the sliding doors close. 

Ten minutes later he’s pulling up to the main entrance of Midtown-- relieved to see Peter already sitting out on the steps, Ned beside him. 

Peter looks all sorts of confused as he watches Tony’s car pull up, only for a goofy grin to overtake his face after Ned points at the Audi, saying something to him-- Peter immediately starting to wave. The kid has a dark bruise on his forehead, but Tony is relieved to see that it really doesn’t look as bad as he was imagining-- grateful not for the first time for the kid’s enhancements.

The car comes to a stop just as the two teenagers begin to stand up, Tony smirking as he halfheartedly waves back through the window only for his smile to drop in dismay along with his arm as he watches Peter start to sway slightly-- just barely saved from falling back on his butt again by Ned steadying him.

Ned shuffles the two of them the few feet to the car, opening the front passenger door with one hand as he holds Peter close to his side with the other.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” he says amicably enough, though with none of his usual nervous excitement.

“Hey, kid,” Tony says, then addressing Peter, “Hey, kid number two.”

“Very funny, M’ster Stark. I’m y’r _only_ kid,” Peter says emphatically, still wearing that same goofy smile even as Ned manhandles him into his seat, putting Peter’s backpack at his feet before going to buckle him in. “Wait, that’s... I’m the only one ya get t’ _call_ kid, s’what I mean.”

“I think his concussion is a little bit worse than the nurse thought,” Ned says with a grimace.

“You don’t say,” Tony says with no small amount of concern as he looks on at Peter, then more reassuringly in the direction of Ned, “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of, don’t worry. You need a ride?”

Ned shakes his head. “Nah, my mom’s coming to get me. Monday nights are my Tagalog tutor lessons.”

Tony nods. “Alright, well, guess we’ll see you later then, huh Pete?”

“See you later, Ned!” Peter practically shouts, Tony watching with wide eyes as Peter leans over as if to hug Ned-- only to give him a big, wet kiss on the cheek. “You’re the bestest friend, man. Jus’-- the best ever. No better friend in the entire world than-- Nedward Leeds. Er, Edward. Edward Nedward Leeds.”

Ned laughs, looking genuinely pleased if still a little worried. “Thanks, dude. You too. Feel better, okay?”

Seemingly appeased by that reply, Peter leans back in his seat, closing his eyes.

With one last shrug at Tony, Ned shuts the car door, Tony pulling away from the school and heading in the direction of the tower. No way is he leaving the kid unattended until the early hours of the morning after the display he just saw.

He told May he would be a better mentor after all, and this is what mentors do, isn’t it?

Well, okay-- maybe monitoring their concussed mentee isn’t _usually_ what a mentor does. But it’s not like Tony is busy anyway, and the kid didn’t exactly come with a rolodex of babysitters.

Not that he’d ever let anyone else besides May to keep watch over the kid in this state, but that’s beside the point. Obviously.

“Hey-- no going to sleep on me, underoos,” Tony orders as they pull into traffic-- relieved to see Peter perk up a little bit at his words. 

“Wasn’t sleepin’.”

“Of course not,” Tony replies skeptically, then in an effort to keep the kid engaged, asks, “So what exactly happened? A discus, really? What happened to your,” -- he flounders for a moment before recalling May’s term-- “tingle thing?”

Peter _giggles_ at that, something that baffles Tony only for that to turn to worry when Peter says, “Tingle. That’s a weird word. Tingle, jingle, ringle…” his nose wrinkles at that, blinking sluggishly. 

“Ringle’s not a word M’sr Stark.” 

Peter’s eyes drift away from him, muttering something about jingles only for his eyes to catch on thin air, dancing across the ceiling of the car. “They’re flyin’...”

Tony grips the steering wheel tighter, a sharp rush of panic flowing through him. “FRIDAY! Call Bruce through the speakers, right now.”

The AI complies without speaking, a ringtone filling the car and going off twice before there’s a click.

“Hey Tony, I just picked up the takeout, what’s--”

“No time for chit chat. I need you back to the tower, _now,”_ Tony says in a rush, glancing over at where Peter sits, staring out the window with a blank look on his face only to start to hum a tune that Tony distantly recognizes as a Beyoncé hit. 

“What’s happened?” Bruce asks, concern lacing his tone. “Are you in Queens, or--”

“No, I’m on my way back with the kid. It’s Pete, Bruce. I--shit, I think he has a brain bleed or something,” Tony says, only for the car’s tires to screech as he whips around a slow-going taxi, Peter yelping and lazily twisting his head to look over, eyes narrowed in accusation. A puppy would look more menacing.

“You’re goin’ over the speed limit. s’Not safe. Ya’ could--could die.” There’s a pause then, Tony looking over only to see Peter’s eyes tearing up, his face scrunching. 

Tony grimaces. “I-- don’t cry. Shit, kid, please, anything but that. It’s gonna be fine, okay? Nobody’s dying, we’re just--”

Peter’s face suddenly uncrumples, his eyes drifting to look out the windshield only to go wide as saucers. “Oh wow, they’re flying outside too! Mis’r Stark, look!”

“Jesus,” Tony breathes out.

“Well, he’s conscious at least, that’s a good sign,” Bruce says lightly, though Tony can hear the muffled sounds of quick footfalls as he runs down the sidewalk. “Are you sure it’s not just a concussion? He’s had plenty of those and been just fine after a few hours, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, I’m damn sure. He’s acting all-- _wrong,”_ Tony tries to explain. “Not just confused, but loopy, seeing things… so if it’s a concussion, then it’s not like any he’s had before.” A thought comes to Tony just then, a sharp breath escaping him. “Oh god-- what if his brain hasn’t been fully healing after the previous ones? Bruce, what if-- shit, what if he has CTE? His healing factor has always worked so fast, I never thought to--”

“‘M not a coefficient,” Peter interrupts, back to glaring at Tony.

“See?” Tony exclaims to Bruce. “He’s not making any sense!”

“I think he means the coefficient of thermal expansion,” Bruce says calmly in between pants of breath. “CTE is the acronym for that too.”

“‘M not a coefficient,” Peter repeats firmly, now glaring furiously at the speaker in the middle console-- Tony feeling a panic attack coming on. Thank god they’re only a block away.

“Meet us in the medbay,” Tony orders, waving a hand to alert FRIDAY to end the call.

The next two minutes are a blur of panic and - if he’s honest with himself - no small amount of exasperation, Tony burning rubber as he flies down into the private tower garage entrance only to park and race around the side of the car, pulling out a squawking Peter.

Thankfully the kid can still walk, even if Tony needs to keep an arm wrapped around his middle. Together they make their way across the garage, Peter going from protesting the manhandling to leaning hard into Tony’s side, muttering something about child endangerment. 

“You’re Ir’n Man and Ir’n Man is… is…” Peter loses his train of thought, the sound of it not doing anything for Tony’s nerves as Peter misses a step and whispers, “What _are_ you, Ms’r Stark?”

 _Losing my damn mind_ , Tony thinks in a panic, his heart seizing as he forcibly pulls Peter towards the sliding elevator doors and hurries him inside, pressing the button for the medbay floor. 

Seconds later they’re entering into the main waiting area where Tony is happy to see Bruce is already waiting, still panting from having run blocks to get there. 

“Bruce, thank god, I--”

Tony is cut off by Peter suddenly stopping in place, coming to a halt so fast that Tony jerks forward - a reminder that for as out of it that Peter is currently that he still has super strength.

“ _DOCT’R BANNER_!?” Peter exclaims, Tony trying - and failing - to bring him forward as Peter continues. “You’re amazing. You’re-- s’amazing. So smart.”

The corner of Bruce’s lip turns up. “Thanks, Peter.”

Together the two of them maneuver Peter into the nearest medbay room, the kid swaying slightly as he giggles again, looking up at the overhead lights. 

“Flurples.”

“Flurples?” Tony asks, Peter smirking then bringing a finger to his lips in a shushing motion, giggling again as he nods his head. 

“The flurples are _flying_ _inside_ now, M’sr Stark.”

Tony sends Bruce a pained look, the other man sighing as he says, “I’m not a medical doctor, Tony. I can’t--”

“ _Please,_ ” Tony pleads, feeling any semblance of control as Peter starts to sing to himself again, his eyes drooping slightly. 

Bruce sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face before moving forward to help Peter towards the nearest bed, Peter’s eyes widening once more as he says, “I’m Peter.”

A small squeak escapes Tony’s throat.

“Hi Peter, nice to meet you,” Bruce says with a grimace, the two of them shuffling forward as Peter becomes almost deadweight in their arms - Tony’s panic rising at how sluggish and disoriented his movements are. 

“FRI, you think you can do a head scan for me?” Tony asks, helping Peter up onto the bed. 

“Will do, boss.” FRIDAY’s voice chimes throughout the lab, swallowing down his panic as Bruce helps Peter lay down. 

Peter looks completely blissed out and cool, slowly blinking as he stares up at the ceiling, eyes dancing around-- no doubt seeing something that isn’t there. 

“He’s gonna be okay, Tony. We’ll figure it out,” Bruce says patiently, Tony only realizing then how tightly he’s gripping Peter’s arm. 

Tony releases his hand, pressing his lips firmly together as he tries to take a deep breath - shooting a glance towards Bruce.

He sees something in his friend’s eyes that he doesn’t recognize, shelving that away as a conversation for later before nodding - hoping to whoever would listen that Bruce was right. 

* * *

“Well, there’s no sign of any brain trauma or even a concussion anymore,” Bruce says aloud as he and Tony look over the results from FRIDAY’s scan-- Peter sitting up again and occupied with pulling his jacket zipper up and down, seemingly entranced.

Tony shakes his head. “But if it’s not that, then why the hell is he…” He trails off, waving an arm in the kid’s direction.

“Peter,” Bruce says kindly, walking over and putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder to get his attention. “Besides your head, were you hurt anywhere else this afternoon? Or did you take anything, maybe? Some kind of medication? Maybe the nurse gave you a pill?”

Peter’s brow furrows, as if he’s really considering the question. “Spray,” he finally replies, before going back to jerking his zipper up and down and giggling.

“Spray?” Bruce asks in confusion, looking over at Tony, who thinks for a moment before his eyes go wide.

“May said he banged up his knee,” Tony replies, rushing over and starting to roll the kid’s pant legs up. “Perhaps the nurse sprayed something topical and-- oh.”

There’s no scrapes or bruising to be found - clearly already healed - but there _is_ a large red rash on the kid’s right knee.

“Finally, a lead,” Bruce says, before walking over the cabinets and starting to pull out supplies. “Let me get a blood sample. Whatever caused this might have gotten into his system before the wound healed.”

Thank god the kid isn’t afraid of needles, Tony thinks as he watches Peter follow Bruce’s instructions to lift his arms, staying calm while Tony carefully removes his jacket and rolls one of his sleeves up so Bruce can draw blood. However, he stays somewhat suspicious, eyes darting over at Tony as if to double-check that everything is going as it’s supposed to, Tony nodding reassuringly back at him.

“‘M kay?” Peter asks conspiratorially, Tony feeling a nearly delirious laugh spilling out of him as he says, “Yeah kid. You’re-- you’re okay.” 

“All done,” Bruce says after he’s pulled out the needle, placing a small piece of gauze in the crook of Peter’s elbow which Tony moves to keep in place with a finger-- not trusting the kid to stay focused long enough to do it himself for even the little amount of time it will take the injection site to heal.

“No cloning,” Peter orders with narrowed eyes, Bruce chuckling and patting Peter’s shoulder gently. 

“You have my word, Peter,” he says with a smile, then to Tony, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Bruce has only been gone maybe thirty seconds before Peter suddenly flops back on the bed like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Peter!” Tony yelps, letting go of the kid’s elbow and putting his hands on the kid’s cheeks.

In response Peter opens one eye at him, squinting. “Bored,” he says plainly, then opening the other eye and looking about the room, mumbles “the flurples’re gone, M’ser St’rk.”

“Are they?” Tony asks lightly, trying to keep the kid awake. “Where did they go?”

“They….they flew ‘way,” Peter slurs out, eyes drifting shut again.

“Nuh uh, nope, no falling asleep, Pete,” Tony orders. Peter doesn’t respond at all, his breath slowly evening out-- Tony taking his own sharp breath out of worry as he taps the kid’s face.

Again there’s no response, Peter seemingly completely out. Tony feels the earlier panic grip around his chest like a vise. He taps Peter’s face a little harder, the desire to be gentle warring with the need to _get Peter to open his damn eyes._

“Kid! Wake up! Kid?”

“You can let him sleep, Tony. FRIDAY’s monitoring him, remember?”

Tony whips around to see Bruce just walking in, a tablet in hand and a small smile on his face.

“Did you figure it out?” he asks, Bruce nodding as he hands over the device. Tony scans the screen twice, making sure he’s reading the findings correctly before he looks back up at Bruce with scrunched eyebrows.

“Ethyl chloride? But that’s common for sports injuries, isn’t it? It should be perfectly safe, so why would--”

“You’ll find it has many uses,” Bruce interjects, then with a nod to Peter, “including pesticides.”

“Pesticides,” Tony says aloud, only for everything to snap into place. 

They hadn’t yet tested the more _spidery_ parts of Peter’s DNA - Tony not even daring to bring up the subject with May lest she thinks that was the only reason he was interested in Peter or worse, had somehow caused his enhancement. 

Now, however, he wishes that he’d had the forethought to do some kind of clinical workup - if only for a warning there was a garden variety chemical which had the ability to send Peter into a drug-induced haze. 

Tony closes his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. “And you’re absolutely certain he’ll be alright?”

“I’m going to take another sample here in a moment to make sure his levels are decreasing,” Bruce says, “but with the trace amounts in his blood right now, I don’t foresee things getting any worse.“ His voice is more firm when after a beat he adds, “Although, he will need to avoid any interaction with the chemical in the future. Today’s encounter was likely the equivalent of a very mild reaction, considering how it was introduced into his system. But if he were to, say, get sprayed with a cloud of it and breathe it in, well…”

Bruce gives him a long look, Tony nodding so he knows he gets the meaning: _this could have been far more serious._

But if Bruce was worried Tony wouldn’t take it seriously enough, he shouldn’t have been. Because Tony was going to take it very seriously-- deadly so, in fact. 

Without another word he plops down in the nearest plastic chair, finger dancing around the tablet screen as he taps out a quick message to May explaining what happened, only for him and FRIDAY to begin plotting out a whole battery of tests for the kid.

“Well, if we’re all done here, I’m going to go eat some of that takeout,” Bruce says to him not much later on, after he’s completed a second blood test-- confirming his hypothesis that the chemical was working its way out of Peter’s system. “You want me to bring you any?”

Tony waves a hand dismissively, already too engrossed in his work to notice the way Bruce smiles fondly as he looks between him and where Peter sleeps peacefully on the bed.

“See you two later, then.”

* * *

Peter slowly wakes, feeling groggy as he squints his eyes open-- gaze darting about the ceiling. For a moment he’s confused that there’s nothing else up there, only to then be confused at the idea that anything else _should_ be up there besides, well, the ceiling. Probably just the remnants of a dream, he thinks as he lets out a slow breath, a slight groan escaping him when he starts to sit up.

“You back with us, kid? No flurples, I hope?”

Peter’s head swivels to see Mr. Stark sitting next to him, a teasing expression on his face, although even disoriented Peter can see there’s worry just underneath it. Now that he’s upright he recognizes his surroundings, brow furrowing as he asks, “What am I-- what happened?”

Mr. Stark lets out a long sigh, flopping the tablet in his hands down on the nightstand next to the bed before leaning over until his elbows hit the bed, steepling his fingers and propping his chin on them.

“What do you remember?”

Bits and pieces come back to him - stretching his legs, Ned’s smile and then Michelle’s smile. Peter blanks much beyond that as he says, “I was at track tryouts, then Flash hit me with a discus. Ned went with me to the nurse’s office and…” Peter trails off, his forehead scrunching even more as he adds, “that’s it. What happened?”

Mr. Stark hums. “Do you remember the nurse putting some topical spray on your knee?” 

When Peter nods, Mr. Stark says, “Well kid, seems we found Spider-Man’s kryptonite-- a chemical called ethyl chloride. When the nurse sprayed the ointment on your scrape, she accidentally drugged you with it.”

Peter’s eyes go wide. “Drugged me?”

Mr. Stark chuckles, picking up the tablet again and putting in some commands before twisting it around, Peter’s face going bright red as he watches clips of himself going on and on about some creature called flurples, only for it to cut to him staring in fascination at his jacket zipper like it’s the newest Lego Star Wars collectible.

“It’s not funny, Mr. Stark,” he says with a groan when the man starts to laugh again. To his credit he sets down the tablet fairly quickly, expression slightly more serious when he turns back to the teen.

“You’re right, Pete, it’s not. Which is why - assuming your aunt agrees - you, Bruce and myself have a date this weekend up at the compound. We need to find out everything we can about exactly what makes that pesky two percent of spider DNA tick.”

Peter nods enthusiastically-- already hoping to never have a repeat of whatever it was he just watched on the tablet. He has a feeling that Mr. Stark’s concern goes a bit deeper than Peter being high out of his mind, not missing the way the worry in his mentor’s gaze still lingers despite his casual affectation. 

Mr. Stark lets out a sniff then, only to smirk as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Psychedelic drug trips aside, I have to ask-- how the hell did you not see that discus coming from a mile away, kid?”

Peter feels his cheeks start to burn, thinking of Michelle. “It was-- it was nothing.”

Mr. Stark’s eyebrows rise skeptically, “Oh really?”

Peter bites his lip, shrugging.

Mr. Stark smirks again, but just shrugs himself. “If you say so.” He stands up after a beat, leaning over and picking up Peter’s backpack from where he must have left it for safekeeping by the side of the bed and handing it to him. “Why don’t you call your aunt and let her know you’re awake while I go put together some plates of takeout for us, eh?”

“Can’t I just go with you now?”

Mr. Stark shakes his head sternly. “Until that chemical is completely out of your system, you’re not going anywhere, underoos. So don’t even try so much as leaving that bed-- you might be able to hack Karen but FRIDAY is a whole different ball game.”

Peter rolls his eyes but stays put, Mr. Stark grinning triumphantly as he exits the room. He waits until he hears the sound of his mentor entering the elevator, opening his backpack and pulling out his cell phone, going straight to his aunt’s contact information and dialing.

“Hey May.”

“When I said to try as Peter Parker, I meant how you are _now_ kiddo. I thought we were done with emergency hospital visits.”

Peter laughs, imagining the smile on May’s face on the other line as he says, “Yeah, yeah I know. Sorry, May. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“To love you is to worry about you, kiddo,” May says, Peter inexplicably glancing over to the door Mr. Stark had walked out of. 

“Anyway, you want to tell me what caused _Spider-Man_ to be so distracted that he got hit by a discus?” 

May’s question brings his attention back to the phone, feeling the warmth in his cheeks return yet again as his mind brings back the memory of what Michelle had looked like as she was standing over him.

“No reason,” Peter cooly lies, hearing the hum on the other line. 

His phone buzzes then, Peter glancing at the notifications as he puts May on speaker.

Peter sees a dozen texts from Ned, asking if he’s okay along with a block of text from Flash - Peter skimming the long, drawn out apology. 

But it’s the newest message that causes his heart to beat a little faster, swallowing down something in his throat as he reads their text thread. 

**MJ:** You okay? I think Flash is gonna cry if he murdered you.

 **MJ:** It’d make for a cool episode of _Awesome Accidents_. Discus to the head? What a way to go. 

**MJ:** but seriously, hope you’re okay. 

Peter quickly taps out a reply, barely holding back a smile as he hits send.

 **Peter** : not dead. dont worry. no death by discus today. 

Peter goes to turn the phone off speaker, only to smile when another message arrives. 

**MJ:** too bad. I had a good speech for your funeral.

Peter laughs at that, going to text again only for May’s voice to bring him back to the moment, “Peter?”

“Yeah? Yeah, I’m here,” Peter quickly says, turning the phone off speaker and bringing it back to his ear.

“If you say so,” May says lightly, her words and tone a perfect echo of Mr. Stark’s just minutes before. Peter grimaces, having a feeling that between both of them snooping, it won’t be long before the truth comes out. If only he could beat them to the punch and ask MJ out first, then maybe--

“Anyway,” May says, oblivious to his inner struggle, “I was thinking that we really do need a name for that sixth sense of yours. I had an idea.”

“Oh?” Peter says. “What’s that?”

“What do you think about… the Peter Prickle!”

Peter groans. “That just sounds _gross,_ May. Nope. No way.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s not _that_ bad.”

“It definitely is. Sorry, but I’m using my veto power. We’re _not_ calling it that.”

He hears her soft laughter, content that at least for now his secret crush was safe as she continues. 

“Oh fine. But just you wait, kiddo. I’ll come up with something good eventually.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make our day!! Or come hang out with us on tumblr: [blondsak](https://blondsak.tumblr.com) and [seekrest](https://seek-rest.tumblr.com).


End file.
